


Leggy Blonde, Goodbye

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caprica Six walks into a bar and meets...Palpatine!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leggy Blonde, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Prequel  
> A/N: I took a liberty and made it Senator Palpatine rather than Emperor. If you've read the EU books, you know that Mara Jade was the Emperor's Hand (or one of them), his secret spy. I've made Caprica Force-resistant because really, she's got circuits, so she shouldn't be any easier to influence than C-3PO or R2D2. The title is from the The Flight Of The Conchords song (obviously).  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. _Star Wars_ and all related characters belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilms.No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Caprica leaned over the bar. It had been a long...however long it had been. The FTL on her Heavy Raider had malfunctioned, she wasn't sure where she was, and even her angel had abandoned her, but at least there was a bar. She could have a cocktail of some kind. Gaius had introduced her to them and a few of them were quite potable. Delicious, even. She hoped this bar had a ready supply of cranberry juice, although on consideration, it didn't look like the sort of galaxy that contained cranberries. Or triple sec.

At least she seemed to be able to understand the language. Being a robot did have a few benefits.

The bartender peered at her with six or eight eyes and she sighed and tapped the bar twice with her knuckles, the interuniversal sign for a double, straight up. At least she had a few cubits in the pockets of her flight suit. She hadn't been officially on the patrol schedule, but she'd bargained her way into a plane. She missed Gaius. She was restless on New Caprica. Any planet was better than that. Any life was better than watching him waste his potential on misgovernment and cheap prostitutes.

The bartender set a drink in front of her and she threw it back and pushed the glass at him. He squinted a few eyes at her and filled it again. She drank down the second one, ignoring the burn in her throat. She liked the burn, really. It told her she was, well, nearly human. Sentient. Breakable. There wasn't any hub in this galaxy. She was on her own.

At least this galaxy had variety. There were furry people, people with wings, people with an uncertain number of appendages, people swaddled in robes that hid any shape their bodies might have. She'd never seen so much variety in the Colonies.

Then again, there was something she had seen in the Colonies: a man sauntering up to her at the bar, eying the empty space at her elbow and the way her flight suit zipped up over her chest. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You will let me buy you a drink, won't you?" he asked in a resonant voice.

She shrugged one shoulder. At least she'd been built for this, the elegance and the coy downward cast of her eyes. At least she didn't have to try.

"Bartender, two of your finest," said the man. He was wearing a long cloak with a high collar. In a way, he reminded her of One. She didn't want to think about that. She looked at him through her eyelashes and he looked back, bold. Overconfident. The idea that she could destroy him was appealing. She smiled at him as he raised his glass to her.

"I have a little proposition for you," he said as she savored the sweet burn of the liquor. "I'd like you to come and work for me." His fingers twitched against the bar, catching her eye.

"Thank you," she said, "but I'm not looking for a job."

"Oh, but it's an opportunity not to be missed," he said. "You could be my right hand. You could travel the galaxy with that charming smile of yours and conquer the hearts and minds of my enemies and my business partners." His fingers twitched again. "What do you think?"

"Again, it sounds lovely, but I'm really not looking for employment," she said, baring her teeth a little this time, the grin that Eight called her "danger face".

Perhaps something was wrong with his hand, because his fingers were still moving slightly on the bar. The human nervous system was so strange and complicated.

"Forgive me," he said, with a smile that was obviously meant to be charming. "There's just something about you. I can't quite place you. Your thoughts are remarkably well-shielded - I mean to say, your face doesn't show them at all. I can see you, but I can't feel your presence. Fascinating, just fascinating. What are you, my dear?"

"I'm not from here," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"That's clear," he said approvingly. He looked at her with an encouraging expression, but she picked up her drink and sipped at it. The "finest" didn't taste like anything better than what she'd already been drinking. The bartender didn't like him very much. Good. She didn't like him either.

"I think you do want to work with me," he said, lowering his voice. His hand was moving noticeably now. "Be my Hand. Together we will rule the galaxy. With my political connections and the way a searching mind slides right past you, no one will stand against us. I wouldn't have even noticed you myself if the light hadn't gleamed off your hair. No Jedi will be able to resist you."

"I'm really not interested," she said, and as the "not" was punctuated with a swift jab to his windpipe, he seemed to get the point this time, though there was very little he could say with both hands clutched around his throat. Caprica walked out. He could pay for the drinks. Perhaps he'd find another Hand to hold, but she was done with schemes of galactic domination. She was going home. She'd find a way.

And really, when she thought of it, it was a little bit funny that there wasn't a galaxy where she wasn't going to be drawn into some sort of power play. Why couldn't a man just ask her for a drink? Why did it have to be ruling the galaxy? And why had he seemed to think she would just go along with it if he kept flexing his fingers? Were the people of this galaxy unusually susceptible to magic tricks? She laughed out loud as she walked out of the bar, causing several beings to shy away from her.

If Senator Palpatine was a little hoarse the next day, only his aides noticed, and if he shied away from leggy blonde women, well, that was something of a relief. There were really only so many beings who could show up claiming he'd promised them riches and power beyond their wildest dreams before the aides stopped taking calls at the office. "On this salary?" they asked each other, and snorted. But at least they got to cut in line in the cafeteria.


End file.
